


sorry, baby

by pensee



Series: ain’t nobody gonna change me [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Female Hannibal Lecter, Female Will Graham, Killing Eve AU, Masturbation, Rating will change, Sort Of, Voyeurism, ish, please see first work in the series for context
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensee/pseuds/pensee
Summary: Hannibal feels like a voyeur, cap pulled low over her eyes, watching Will and Matthew as they fumble through the guestbook at the front desk like mindless cattle focused only on their impending gratification.She would be a voyeur, rather, if not for the fact that Will is very much aware she is here, slinking through the shadows in search of the woman who occupies every free thought she has.
Relationships: Matthew Brown/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: ain’t nobody gonna change me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652908
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	sorry, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Um whoops enjoy.

Hannibal feels like a voyeur, cap pulled low over her eyes, watching Will and Matthew as they fumble through the guestbook at the front desk like mindless cattle focused only on their impending gratification.

She would be a voyeur, rather, if not for the fact that Will is very much aware she is here, slinking through the shadows in search of the woman who occupies every free thought she has.

It seems Will’s stale marriage has improved since the last time she’s seen her, something inexplicably to do with a promotion or reassignment, despite the earlier fiasco in Paris. She’d lost a few things to Hannibal on that trip, but affection (insofar as it irritated her dangerous suitor) for her husband was not one of them.

Hannibal’s eyes narrow as Will throws her arms about Matthew’s shoulders, theatrical, and tip toes to plant a wet kiss on his cheek. Jaw clenching, Hannibal unfolds the evening edition of the Sunday Times, and pretends to read. 

Will rubs lotion onto her hands, getting in between her fingers, running palms up and down her forearms. She is carelessly sensual and a terrible tease, propped up on the profuse number of hotel pillows, wearing a robe that is far too thin and far too short for Hannibal’s liking. She catches a flash of pale thigh as Will rearranges herself, tucking a leg under her shapely bum, and the irritating reality—she’s only wearing that robe for Matthew, that vermin doesn’t deserve to see her like this—strikes Hannibal harder than she was prepared for. 

Will looks up for a moment, and Hannibal thinks she’s been spotted, but the other woman just tosses her head back, riot of curls spreading out around her like a halo, and slowly, very slowly, moves a hand between her legs. 

Hannibal’s lip twitches, tip of a canine bared. 

What was she playing at. 

Spreading her thighs, legs akimbo, Will runs her right hand down her mound, feet braced against the bed, and Hannibal imagines the wet, barely-there sound of fingers sliding against Will’s lower lips. Imagines that Will is already soaking—and it isn’t for Matthew, no, it’s all for Hannibal, it’s Hannibal’s name she’ll be calling, begging for release. 

Rubbing her thumb against her clit, Will’s thighs jerk back together, involuntary, and her mouth opens in an obscene pant, mouth cherry red as she runs a pink tongue along her lower lip. 

Hannibal can feel her own clit throbbing in her trousers, but ignores her own pleasure in favor of observing every detail of Will’s own. 

Her eyes are closed, though her lashes flutter like those of a dreaming princess in a painting, her skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat as she continues to touch herself, and saliva gathers on Hannibal’s tongue as she sees the sticky strands of Will’s arousal coat her fingers when she withdraws her hand to pluck at a peaked nipple. 

Her heavy tits would feel lovely in Hannibal’s palms, the flesh vulnerable in between her sharp teeth as Hannibal thrusted into her, rutting like an animal between her legs.

She nearly loses her breath when Will raises the same dampened hand to her mouth to taste, lets out an audible growl, knowing full well she is being mocked. 

She has not seen Will in person since Paris, but whatever revelations the entrusting of her name had granted to Will, the other woman had surely learned the secrets of how to See the truth of her. 

Enough to know when she’d be back in the UK. Enough to know when she’d drop in unannounced. 

Was her desire that transparent? 

Evidently so, she thinks, morbid amusement warring with anger as Matthew emerges from the en suite, clad in lounge pants and nothing else. 

He’s facing the window, and Hannibal can see his lips form the words, You get started without me? She sneers at the sure slyness probably present in his tone, nonetheless resenting his enviable position, free to play with his wife whenever he chose. 

Someday, Will would be hers, though tolerating her little pet’s adventures in the interim kept her temper growing shorter and shorter. 

Will says something to Matthew, who seems surprised. Hannibal’s mouth flattens as Matthew moves out of sight, and the room falls into darkness. The blackout curtains are tugged closed, a final: no free show for the neighbors tonight, as Hannibal resists a frustrated scoff. 

Clever girl. 

The courtyard she’s been spying from is deserted, and Hannibal pulls another cigarette from her coat, the last one long burnt down to ash, along with four of its fallen brothers. 

Crushing the stub under her boot heel, she makes a split second decision to return to the lobby, where the night clerk still waited, no doubt playing a game on her phone. 

If Will was going to be a bloody tease, Hannibal was just going to have to be more persistent. 

The lobby has a bulletin board advertising various activities, quaint little community gatherings and word of a new swimming pool, recently opened last month. Hannibal is halfway to the front desk when something pinned there catches her eye.

Tacked to the bottom left of the pool flyer is a note written on a hastily torn piece of paper, nothing upon first glance, though she recognizes Will’s handwriting, its chaotic, flared serifs, indications of a pen pressed a tad too deeply into the pad. 

Sorry, baby, it reads, and Hannibal snorts, an evil little image forming in her mind. 

The note itself is a taunt, no mistake, and its very nature invites retaliation. 

Perhaps, when Hannibal pays her a visit tomorrow morning, when Matthew is away to breakfast or tennis or fucking off in the manner that had driven them apart in the first place, Will may even welcome Hannibal’s choice of retaliation. 

Either way, she thinks, greeting the sullen teenager at the front desk, what fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Plans for ch 2 include hasty the husband’s about to come back sex. Vote in the comments for sex positions. Jk. ......sort of.  
> So sorry for lack of context, let’s just say Will’s had a S2 glow up and ain’t so afraid of the monster anymore...she just wanna get dicked down even more by teasing the monster out.


End file.
